To Love & Love Again~ Malachi's Reprise: The Soul Of A Man

By Thaddeus Kane

"How? When I want you here." He pressed his mouth onto hers basking in the warmth of their lip frolic.

"Are you sure I won't be in your way?"

He grabbed her up into his arms and laid her under him. Caressing her face, he commanded, "Stay." He tasted her cheek. "Be naked with me. Make more love to me."

Malachi Green, a young, handsome multi-millionaire is the operating owner and inheritor of his family's publishing empire, UniQue Magazine. He is separated from his wife, Diana, a cunning, calculating, bewitchingly, beautiful supermodel who is never satisfied. Amidst scandal, paper chasing, and a treacherous spell of infidelity, Malachi finds himself on a quest for love and happiness as he transitions from an unfruitful marriage to a series of questionable affairs. To his surprise, he finds what he is searching for right under his nose, his newly promoted managing editor, Salima, who is full of charm, wit, and beauty. The plot twists and turns, addressing the risks of falling in love and the promise that newfound love brings, and the challenges of sustaining that love once it is acquired. But will the other women, including his estranged wife, Diana, twirling about his world, allow a romance with Salima to blossom? Will the devious intentions of these others overtake the passion brewing between him and Salima and destroy their chances at love forever? This is a passionate tale of what we all crave: a unique love of our own with little or no collateral damage … or so we hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Platinum Quill Publications
• Release date: Nov 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9798201498184

Thaddeus Kane

Thaddeus Kane is an husband, father,  author, musician, educator, playwright, Love warrior.

Book preview

Chapter One

Wednesday, June 7, 6:30 a.m.

Good morning, Mr. Green! 

Good morning, Melody! Malachi cheerfully responded, making himself comfortable in his favorite booth. I thought that we agreed you would call me by my first name? 

Well, yeah, but management said that we should remain professional when addressing our patrons. We gotta put handles on the names. Her bright, gentle eyes smiled at him and he returned the gesture.

Yeah, that's Frank for you.

You know him better than any of us.

I do.

So, will it be the usual this morning, Mr. Green?  Melody always served him the same, fulfilling breakfast: a cheese omelet, with green peppers, tomatoes, and mushrooms, hash browns and two slices of buttered wheat toast, topped with strawberry jam.

Yes, Melody. Thanks. And could you ask Frank to go a little heavy on the cheese in the omelet, please? 

Sure, she replied, jotting his request on her iPad. And I’ll be right back with your orange juice.

Malachi scrolled the day's task list in his phone and watched the lazy strolls of passersby while he waited for his meal. He had been patronizing Marji’s Restaurant for two years since he and his wife, Diana, moved to Troy Ocean Estates, a quiet, prosperous, mostly Black suburban community. They lived on Pleasure Cove Lane where the most expensive, elegant homes were nestled along Dell’s Beach. The seven-acre lot had a perfect view of the sunrise, acres of lush, manicured green, and a private, cobblestone sidewalk that led to the seaside. Despite all its natural, enchanting beauty, Malachi and Diana separated shortly after the move to the luxurious estate. The indulgence of the natural amenities of his home and the close proximity of Marji's omelets were his consolation prizes. 

Melody placed a carafe of fresh squeezed orange juice and a glass on the table. Frank said that too much cheese will ruin the balance of flavor in the eggs. He said to sue him. She shrugged and juggled her eyes playfully.

There he goes, he scoffed.

"Like I said, you know Frank."

Yes, he mused, as he filled his glass, enjoying the sweet citrus fragrance that motivated him for his daily grind.

I’ll be back with your order shortly.

Thanks, Mel.

Frank and Malachi had been friends long before Malachi gained his status as a successful publisher and editor-in-chief. The two men grew up together and participated in sports alongside each other through middle and high school. Malachi pursued a career as a freelance writer and photographer while Frank sought higher education in the culinary arts and business management. The result of Frank’s professional passion was ownership of Marji’s Restaurant, and penning several, best-selling cookbooks.

Marji’s upscale ambience, down home comfort food, and his friendship with Frank made him a regular at the restaurant. He sat in the same booth in the corner, facing the entrance. Often times, he would write, draw, or conjure an innovative photo layout for UniQue Magazine (UM) while he savored his meal.

Melody returned with his vittles. You know I’ll be leaving soon.

You’re leaving your shift early? 

No, I’m leaving, as in going back to Alabama to take care of my mother. She is worsening. 

Sadness overcame the glee that usually framed Melody’s comely face. Having built a loving, friendly rapport over the years, Mal was saddened by her grief; she had become a little sister of sorts. I thought her cancer was in remission? 

So did I. So did everyone, but it’s not the case. I’ll have to go home next week, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.

Malachi sincerely sympathized with her because he knew firsthand the emotional, mental, and spiritual strain that cancer causes a family. Malachi’s uncle, Maurice, his last living relative, died of cancer four years prior. He reassured his little sister.

Well, Melody, if you need anything, you know I am here for you. And I mean anything, just let me know.

I really do thank you, Mr. Green, but I’ll be fine. 

Fine? You understood what I said to you? His stern gaze melted her wish to be tough.

I understand.

He smiled and touched her hand. Will you be driving or flying to Alabama? 

I’m not sure yet. I’ll more than likely fly because I’m not too keen on driving long distances. Melody placed Malachi’s receipt on the table. 

Okay, sister. Just know that I am here. 

I know. She squeezed his fingers and left him to enjoy the most important meal of the day.

Malachi sighed, breathing out concerns about Melody and breathing in the aroma of sharp cheddar cheese, peppers, and tomatoes that slowly consumed his senses as he cut into his omelet. He said a prayer for Melody, her mother, his food, and the rest of the world.

After finishing his breakfast, he drank the entirety of his orange juice, and left a generous tip. He walked through the restaurant toward the door, the blended scents of cinnamon and ginger in the lobby soothing his mind, pleasantly preparing him to start his daily grind.

Once outside, he leaned against the driver’s side door of his car and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed his wife’s number. Diana answered after two rings. 

Hello? she answered groggily. 

Hey, Di. What’s up? 

Uh, tired. Do you know what time it is? 

Diana smoothed hair from her left ear. She slowly positioned herself at the bed’s edge, eased into her slippers, grabbed her robe, and walked into the hallway. After closing the door behind her, she headed straight for the kitchen to keep her conversation out of earshot. She didn’t want to disturb her overnight guest.

Yeah, Diana, it’s 7:45 a.m. I thought you would’ve been up by now.

Diana responded to Malachi with a clearer head. I didn’t feel too well earlier this morning, so I took the day off. 

Do you need anything? I can come over if you like. 

No. That won’t be necessary, she responded coolly. She had a plan, and Malachi’s discovery of her overnight guest’s identity would ruin her plot, especially his knowing that she and the guest had been carrying on for two years. I’ll fix myself something to eat. Maybe that’ll curb what’s ailing me. She cleared her throat. So, what’s going on with you?

I was wondering if you would have lunch with me. I won’t be in the office today, so I figured that maybe you and I could get together and talk. See where we stand. 

Hmm, Mal. I don’t know if I want to discuss us today. I know that you miss me, baby. I miss you, too, but that’s just not a conversation I wanna have right now.

Of course, she didn’t want to discuss reuniting because she was heavily involved with someone else.  And her dealings with her secret guest were in total violation of every principle of trust.

Okay, Di. Let’s have lunch and we can talk about something else, he offered.

I’ll tell you what. If my day goes as well as I hope, with these crazy symptoms, I’ll call you, and we’ll definitely do lunch. And maybe, just maybe, dessert. Her tone was slick, seductively mischievous. 

I can go for that. Call me later. He ended the call abruptly. Diana, slightly stunned, went back to her bedroom and snuggled up with Mr. Break All Rules of Trust.

Malachi opened the door of his coconut white BMW and started the engine. He nestled into the white cottony soft leather seat and relaxed as the convertible top steadily receded to the rear storage compartment. He pressed the gas pedal slightly so that he could hear and feel the response of the torque beneath the hood, wishing his would-be wife was as responsive as this German engineering.

Four and a half years ago, Diana and Malachi were married at The Cylburn Botanical Gardens in an extravagant, all white wedding gala. After the ceremony, Malachi’s Uncle Maurice bestowed upon his favorite nephew the ultimate wedding gift: his rightful inheritance, the family legacy, UniQue Magazine. Months later, after Uncle Maurice succumbed to cancer, Malachi inherited the entire family fortune. The former Diana Nixon had married a gold mine. And not just a gold mine; he was a beautiful soul. His lean, muscular, six-four frame was covered in bronze-colored skin, crowned by a headful of dreadlocks, which lay kingly about his lean shoulders. Deep, burning brown eyes melted women’s souls, and charmed them right out of their clothes. But even more captivating was his intelligence, creativity, and sincere care for his fellow man. The sparkling smile accentuated by his neatly groomed mustache and beard made women quiver, but it was his spirit of integrity and honor that made him the ultimate catch. Yet, Diana Green evaded him. She was definitely attracted to her husband, but her love for him was a nagging question; the lack of an answer caused problems to flare up almost immediately. 

Many in the couple’s circle took Malachi’s side and cast Diana as a gold digger. Their troubles began with Malachi’s necessary late nights at the office to restructure UniQue Magazine’s organization after the passing of his Uncle Maurice, who founded the publication. Malachi thought his wife would be more understanding, given the situation. He compromised with Diana and spent less time at work to alleviate the tension between them.  Ironically, Diana started spending more time away from home.

She socialized with her close friends late into the night. She patronized the premier nightclubs and restaurants around the city, spending a lot of money on herself and her girlfriends to satisfy an insatiably, rich taste and addiction to material lavishness. It was her world and as her husband, Malachi was her benefactor whom she felt should be honored to spend his money on her.

Diana Nixon was a high fashion model, turned career woman. Her perfectly oval, cat eyes twinkled above her high cheekbones and soft, full lips. A golden wheat complexion served as a delicious contrast to her silky, smooth, jet-black hair, always styled according to the latest trends. Long, voluptuous legs walked a sensuous pace inviting any man to unite with her on the sole strength of her gait. As fine as she was, Malachi saw beyond her beauty, directly to her brains, and then to her soul, a brilliant soul that blinded him to her deceptive nature. There was much about Diana that he did not know, trusting her implicitly and clueless about her extramarital affairs. She mastered hiding her diabolical passions. Malachi believed all the reasons for her traveling escapades, ventures that mostly entailed meeting up with her old modeling colleagues. Diana rarely discussed her history in the world of couture, but she remained active in that arena, so she said, and so Malachi believed.

Truly, she was selfish in the marriage, wanting to have her cake and eat Malachi’s too. One night while they were eating dinner, she asked for a separation, simply stating, Mal, baby, I think we should separate for a while. He was completely caught off guard by her suggestion, especially since he had cut back on his office hours to accommodate her alleged loneliness at home. While he did not desire a separation, he acquiesced, and gave Diana the space she wanted. He left her in their home with her customized Mercedes Benz, continued to pay the household expenses, and supply her with a personal expense account. He hoped that there would be a renewal of their old union.

It wasn’t until nearly a year after his separation from Diana that Malachi became seriously involved with someone else. He had his share of flings and weekend getaways, but no one ignited his fire until Tosha Kincaid. Tosha. Tosha. TOSHA!!!!  Malachi absolutely adored Tosha for her sweet thoughtfulness, but what he loved most was her sense of humor. She was the funniest chick he had ever met, telling him, In this line of work, it's the thing that keeps me halfway sane. You gotta have a strong funny bone to litigate for these corporate monsters. Their dalliance lasted for approximately six months, short-lived because of Tosha’s excessive business travels, conflicting with Malachi’s desire for stability. He planned to start a family and build his empire, and he knew with certainty that a real deal, ride or die Mrs. Green was a requirement. Tosha would have been so perfect for the role, but she had to pursue her own vision, which Malachi understood. He needed a wife with her own vision and her own pursuits, but he required more merging of visions than Tosha wanted to give.

Girl, come work with UM.

What? Man, I don’t think that would work. Besides, you know I love environmental law.

Yeah, I know, Malachi responded, as he sadly and lustfully rolled her brown physique over for a midnight snack of pleasure. She was delicious, and he savored every drop of her late-night vaginal glory, knowing it would be the last time.

Diana flipped her wig when she found out about Tosha. She disrupted the romance at every turn, showing up or calling at the most inconvenient times. Her antics aided the dissolution of his love affair with Ms. Kincaid. Diana purposely strung Malachi along, wooing him with lies of romance, falsely telling him that she missed him and wanted to get back together. It was all part of her cunning scheme. No other woman would be in Malachi’s pockets. 

When women swarmed in on Malachi, Diana initiated talks of reconciliation. She began to be intimate with Mal, once or twice each month to fuel his fire for her, hold the women at bay, and maintain a short leash on her estranged husband. Malachi loved his would-be wife, but Diana only loved Malachi’s money, and his dick every now and then. She played a game of dirty hearts tilling the emotions of her unsuspecting husband with promises of things that would never come.

Fuck her... for now, he thought as he backed out of the parking space, the gravel moving down and around, under the weight of his car. Before he entered onto the main road, he donned his yellow-lensed, wire-framed sunglasses and pressed play on the CD player. He increased the volume, and his favorite song, Emotional DeQoupage by Q Moon filled his head. The scenic route would be the route that he would take into the city this morning. He placed his arm along the top of the door and tapped his fingers to the tune pumping from the Bose system. The music and Malachi were one with the essence of the day.

It was a sunny, Wednesday morning, replete with refreshing, oceanic breezes, giving rise to Malachi’s thoughts on his current station in life. His business- Phillips Publishing had made him a very generous offer for UM. Should he sell the family business, even if he would be selling to family?  His wife- how long was he going to let this bitch play around? He thought of Melody’s mother and his Uncle Maurice and concluded that life was short, and he was not interested in wasting any more time with her.

His thoughts quickly turned to dust as the glimmering buildings of the city emerged into view. They appeared futuristic as the morning sunlight reflected off the stainless-steel skyscrapers of the urban landscape. UniQue Magazine had a distinct place among the banks, international corporations, and law firms.  Malachi Green, himself, had a unique place among the distinguished CEO’s as an owner and a young, multimillionaire, power player.

Driving into the gateway of downtown, he felt the energy of the multiple pedestrians who populated the tree-lined sidewalks. A transit bus passed by bearing an advertisement along its side that read, What Is UniQue?, UM’s most recent ad campaign. He saw an array of men and women dressed in expensive business suits and casual work wear. There were couriers on bicycles who were picking up and delivering their first packages of the day. The doors of Mocha Manny’s, the coffee shop at the intersection of Tenth and Diplomat, were swinging back and forth swiftly as loyal patrons carried cups and bagels in hand like they were exiting an assembly line. Malachi marveled at the caffeine addicts, for he did not require the narcotic. He commanded his pace and flow, never rushed in his movement. Tempo was enslaved to him; he always took it easy, practicing a meticulous inventory of his surroundings at all times.

8:15, he uttered, as he looked at the clock on the console.  He thought that maybe he should swing by the office for a few minutes, check his email, and browse the floors for about twenty minutes. Malachi’s employees were always inspired and motivated by his presence. He was a task master, but he placed great trust in his UM team and in turn, they produced prolifically and professionally.

It was 8:23 a.m. when he steered into the entrance lot of his building. The pampered lawn welcomed him while the circular fountain sprayed glistening water upon a five-foot, marble pedestal, holding up a six-foot tall, crowned, gold and white, marble lion. Under the right paw of the regal beast was a plaque displaying the name of his pride and joy, his legacy, UniQue Magazine.

As he positioned his vehicle in the reserved parking space, the music ceased, but Malachi hummed the last tune that played, The Commodores, Easy. Yeah, like Sunday mornin', he